let lemons be angry

800 dogs, 300 cats. Noah's Ark Natural Animal Sanctuary.

We blindfolded Joys to take the busride to the causeway, but even with her eyes open she didn't know we were coming to heaven on earth.

Through my eyes even ponies are huge and intimidating, and I could barely keep my hand there long enough for them to grab apples with their teeth. Clomp, clomp, and apples turn into juice pulverised all over the floor.

Winnie, the only Maltese, and the happiest one I've seen. Malteses in homes trot nervously and bark too much. Winnie bounces over humps to make friends in this acre and that.

I'd never before come into contact with 800 large dogs. To be stared at by about 40 dogs at a time is unnerving even for an animal lover. There is that ever-present knowledge that these creatures are capable of tearing me apart if they decided I'm a creep. But these dogs at NANAS seem to be treated so well that they trust all humans who walk in. They crowded around us expecting pats.

None of my photographs can capture just how many dogs there were, or how vast the land is. While it didn't feel like 800 dogs, it felt like 100 at a time.

There were too many Labradors. Active ones, mild ones. Whether loved or abused before, all these animals have had owners. While they look happy to be roaming leashless in acres of land, their incessant snuffling up for attention tells me that they could use a lot more of it.

300 cats, and I was still able to pick a favorite. That's a cat lover for you. I named him Russian. We often idealise the naming of a pet, imagining that when we finally get a pair of dogs, we will name them something culturally sophisticated like Bonnie and Clyde. But when we play with animals, the most banal of names come tumbling out of our mouths, most unconsciously: "Brownsie!" "Tiger!" "Baby!" "Fatface!" And for this little guy, "Russian" came to me most unfathomably.

The cats had their own bungalow, being all prim and clean the way cats are. On hot days, they sit in their balcony and look down at the dogs swimming in their lake. The catteries are kept secure with double gates, so that no dog can rush in and wreak havoc. I wonder what hell must have been raised before they devised such a system.

Fact: everybody looks more photogenic when carrying a bunny. This little fella was the easiest to catch, but had to be cornered. His eyes are huge because he's scared stiff, literally frozen, and in k's words, thinking, "I'm cooked."

There were many pedigree cats, such as Mr Fatface here. While there were pock-marked strays that looked like they'd been roughed up every night of their lives, there were many who were familiar with cuddles and had surprisingly soft and clean fur.

The biggest dogs were kept in the deepest part of the sanctuary. Imagine a small room swarming with dogs as big as this. I had to back off from a bull terrier who had taken to licking the insect repellent off my legs, and avoid stepping on a limping mongrel who chose to squeeze his way between me and the wall.

After all that mutual love, I'm convinced. Dogs truly live for the affection of humans. But only the cattery gave me a rush from my insides to the top of my head.

NANAS isn't a place you will feel like adopting a pet from. The animals look like they belong there. When all is right, animals don't feel the need to be aggressive, and they are subdued by humans, as God intended. But I will have to go back, to take better photographs. And besides, when buses pull up, the dogs charge with a multitude of barks to the front gate. The dogs are waiting to be loved.